


not like the others

by lalakiki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Corpses, Elevators, Hotels, M/M, Psychological Horror, Things Get Dark, receptionist renjun, somewhat descriptive horror(?) imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalakiki/pseuds/lalakiki
Summary: An elevator brings a dead body to the hotel lobby. Renjun doesn't know which floor it came from, but he does know that there's one guest on each of the six floors.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 45





	1. lobby

**Author's Note:**

> tw for blood, gore, psychological horror things, overall creepy imagery, you get it
> 
> i do not condone any of the actions & behaviors described in this
> 
> haven't really written horror before so i wanted to try it out!!
> 
> \-- update: hello! i'm back (i think). i've upped the publish date just to revive this a bit (please don't kill me idk if this is a crime or not). i know i have some readers who are anticipating the next chapters and i feel awful about disappearing for months so i'm just here to let everyone know i haven't totally abandoned this yet! the story is complete in my drafts, i just haven't gotten to writing the rest. i'm gonna try my best to finish this so i can finally share the truth behind this whole strange hotel scenario and what renjun has to do with it :) 
> 
> thank you to everyone who's read this so far and left me kudos & comments! it means a lot to me and does a great deal of motivating me to write more. i promise i won't let this die (haha funny joke because, yknow- *gets shot*) and yeah. that's all i wanted to say :) take care!
> 
> \+ i'll be on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Iabitgray) to occasionally share updates/thoughts. come chat with me! feel free to send inquiries to my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/labitgray) as well.

It was not, by any means, a normal night at the hotel. Over the past hour, the sole receptionist had been observing the lobby — for lack of having other tasks to do — and came to the conclusion: it was not a night like any other night.

The place was eerily quiet for being only half past eleven, a time when usually staff and some late night customers would be wandering around the expansive lobby. Renjun could not even hear a single footstep in the distance, soft chattering of customers or elevators moving. It was as though he was the only person in the entire building, sitting in an empty cage waiting for something to happen — or nothing at all. 

He organized his thoughts, leaning back in his chair with a loud sigh. It would be a cruel prank for his coworkers to secretly return home and leave the young receptionist alone at work. Even if that were the case, it would certainly not explain the lack of guests. Though the hotel wasn’t the five-star luxury type, it wasn’t a small place either. There were six guest floors, each floor having a maximum fifty persons capacity. Renjun knew he helped some people check in earlier his shift; then again, the more he tried to recall how many he had seen that day, the memories merely grew hazy. 

He didn’t want to part from his desk and seek the truth for himself. If there were no customers, that meant he could simply sit there and doze off for the rest of the night, which sounded like heaven. But it didn’t change the strangeness of the hotel, the uncomfortably quiet lobby and the feeling in the back of Renjun’s chest that somehow, he was not safe. 

A moment’s surprise came when Renjun’s thoughts were interrupted by a very sharp, resonating sound: the elevator bell. It filled the hall so suddenly in the midst of the young man’s concern that he nearly jumped in his seat. He clutched his chest, taking a deep breath to remind himself that it was just the damn elevator. When he turned his head to the elevator, those sitting meters away from the reception, he watched as the doors slid open and blood poured out from the widening crack. 

The body — a tall, thin man well-dressed — was sitting on the floor of the cubic space, his back resting against the wall. The fresh blood spilled from his stained chest, wrists and the stump where his head should be worn. There were no eyes, not even a face but Renjun shuddered under the corpse’s gaze and retched at the powerful stench of bloody innards. He turned away. 

_Shit, holy shit… I need to… what do I… the police!_ Renjun’s trembling hands reached for the phone on the desk and punched in the three numbers. He pushed the device to his ear, both of his hands gripped tightly as he awaited the monotone _What is your emergency?_

There was no answer, no matter how long he panted and waited and avoided looking at the bloody mess in the elevator (which, for some reason, remained open when it should have closed automatically by then). He gulped and prayed to hear a voice but he was given pure silence. The phone was not responding. Shakily, he placed it back down and stared at his hands. 

It came to mind: that there was a killer who had done this to the man, and that they were somewhere in the upper floors of the hotel. If he can’t call the police, and there was no one else at the hotel, what on earth was he supposed to do? More importantly, _was he next?_

Renjun was convinced he could hear the delicate sound of the still warm blood spilling from the man’s every wound. And the thought that it was all real, happening only a small distance away, was unbearable. He grabbed the mouse for the desktop, gradually feeling queasy with raw smell spreading through the lobby.

He accessed the hotel’s records that held information on guest room occupancy. Without any help from someone capable, Renjun’s logic was that it was up to him to find the culprit. The system should have the information to, at the very least, tell him how many guests were on each floor. Maybe the killer was on a quiet floor, where people weren’t around to hear the screams. Would he have heard the screams, too? 

Quickly, he opened the files where the records were held for the current month. His eyes scanned the chart when he realized, soon enough, that something was exceptionally odd about these records. “What…?”

Out of shock, his first thought slipped off his tongue unintentionally, which he then shut away as if the killer was nearby to hear him. It was impossible, he said to himself, blinking at the practically empty chart when it was always messy with words, symbols, color coding, save for a few names. 

Six of them, he noticed — one for each floor. 

Did someone hack into the system? Was this simply part of an elaborate prank that his coworkers had plotted against him? No, he had to think about this seriously, carefully. There was a dead man sitting in a warmly-lit elevator across from his desk, a man who undoubtedly was alive just an hour or so ago. The killer was still in the building somewhere, probably, and if he stayed put at the desk he would’ve been trembling in his seat for hours, wondering when and how he would be murdered just like the unknown man. 

_No._ Renjun refused to be killed in a cheap hotel during his overnight shift. The disappointment would carry over from the physical world to his ghostly spirit that would likely end up haunting the hotel. Being bound to his workplace for eternity was perhaps the last outcome he would’ve hoped for in life after death. Staring at the puzzling emptiness of the hotel records except for the six names, he gulped as he slowly stood from his chair. He didn’t have any weapons for self-defense in the case that he was confronted by the culprit; he grabbed the closest thing he had, which was a bulky flashlight kept under the desk for emergency situations. He tried to turn it on but flicking the switch nor smacking it against his hand did anything. Batteries were dead, he figured. He stuffed it into a back pocket anyways, knowing its weight could come in handy to substitute as a blunt weapon, and headed to the scene in question. 

The smell was worse than he imagined. The pungent mix of what he can only describe as iron, raw fish and pure agony hit him like a comet, its punching power enough to nearly knock him to the floor. He pinched his nose with his fingers with a large frown, wincing the closer he got to the body and halting in front of the flowing river of blood. Hesitantly, yet out of curiosity, he glanced at the neck. It was unbelievable how clean-cut the stump was, perfectly flat and smooth. Dread filled his chest at the imagination of a veteran killer, one who’d mastered the art of decapitation, his shadow holding an axe dominating over the helpless Renjun. 

He looked away. Staring any longer at the grotesque, red mush of broken skin, muscle and veins would have pulled his dinner back into his mouth. Exhaling deeply, he pushed the button of the elevator next to the problematic one, stepping in after half-expecting yet another corpse to be greeting him. Thankfully, it was empty and clean as usual, softly playing the lyricless jazz music that he never found calming to listen to. He turned around only when he heard the doors sliding shut, wanting to make sure there wasn’t the killer about to lunge in but doing so in definite fear. 

Extending his finger, he looked at the panel of numbered buttons. He slowly pushed the 2 button, delaying for a few seconds in reluctance. The altered records formed in his mind, its voice repeating the names that he saw on each floor. His palms were warm and damp from his fists being clenched so intensely.

What was the purpose of the guest floor records that held six names he had never seen before? He couldn’t guess. But it certainly felt as though someone out there was controlling his actions, commanding him to complete a life or death quest of Find the Killer Before It’s Your Turn. He couldn’t understand any of it, he really couldn’t. Were the records implying that the true killer was among the six individuals and he had to figure out who it was in a timely manner? That would be ridiculous — this wasn’t a mystery murder game, after all. But it was entirely possible that whoever responsible for all this wanted to make a game out of Renjun. 

For the time being, Renjun decided he had no choice but to accept what had come to him. If he could truly reach the true identity of the killer and save himself from this mess by exploring each floor, he was willing to bring himself there. The names were clear in his head — clear enough for him to create a blurry face for each of them, though they were more vague silhouettes than anything. He took in another deep breath as his feet felt the elevator shifting, transporting him upwards to a cloudy fate. Renjun began to regret his every choice, that he didn’t simply retreat to an unoccupied room and locked himself there until dawn. But there was a small part of him that was anticipating the events awaiting him, and the fact that he realized the image of the body no longer bothered him both delighted and terrified himself.

Slumping against the cold elevator wall with a blank stare, he wondered if Mark Lee was going to kill him next. And if not Mark Lee, then Park Jisung, Lee Jeno, Zhong Chenle, or Lee Donghyuck. He forgot the last name.


	2. mark lee

There were a couple strange things about the floor, Renjun observed, that he could see as soon as he emerged from the elevator and onto the vacuum-cleaned mahogany carpet. 

For one, none of the guest room doors were labeled. Each room should’ve had a bronze label on its door with a number, large and centered, but as far as Renjun’s eyes saw, there was not a single number in sight. 

The other thing was that the elevator holding the body followed him there. It was wide open, showcasing the corpse and tormenting Renjun the moment he realized it was present. He was scared, but he reminded himself that breaking down was what whoever was behind all this wanted to see — if someone was watching his every move, that is. Perhaps they hacked into the elevator and security system, having access to all the surveillance cameras… He tried not to think about it. 

Renjun found it difficult to breathe. The hall was filled with a strangely heavy and dark air, even in the midst of moderate illumination. Walking down the hall was like stepping into a cloud of miasma, poison filling his lungs with each inhale. He looked and looked and none of the doors he passed by had a label. The doorknobs were still when he attempted to open a few doors — not like they were locked, but like they were held in place by an outside force. 

The receptionist wasn’t sure where to go. Walking down the hall blindly, to him, was essentially waltzing into a trap perfectly and obviously laid out for him, especially when there could be a murderer not far away from him. But was there anything else to do, aside from retreat and safely lock himself into one of the rooms until morning? He thought about it, remembered none of the doors seemed to open to begin with, and sighed. 

The elevators were still within view. He turned around and approached the elevator he took from the lobby, suddenly wanting to hide in its cramped space. No matter how many times he pressed the button to summon it, though, the doors never slid open, yet the body just next door remained on display, proudly and grotesquely. Renjun cursed under his breath, having a bad feeling about running away from what he had already trudged into. Once again, he began his way down the hall, searching for whatever he was meant to discover on the floor.

He stopped not long after parting from the elevators. Squinting, he spotted a figure many rooms down from where he stood, his heart pounding quicker than it normally did. Renjun gulped. The person was perfectly still, almost like a statue, his back against the door that he stood in front of. His back was arched and shoulders tense, his nose pointing to a blank spot on the door of the opposite side. There was not even the slightest reaction to Renjun’s footsteps that echoed throughout the halls, which frightened him the most. From what he managed to see, there was no obvious weapon in the person’s hands. Believing it was safe to just approach him a little more, Renjun cautiously walked closer, his legs ready to turn around and flee the second he sensed danger. 

The figure did not react at all. Closer, Renjun had a better impression of whoever the person was; he was definitely young, dressed like an average college student with a hoodie and light-washed jeans. His skin was so deathly pale that Renjun imagined the iciness of it if he were to carelessly touch him. Renjun stopped once, studying the frozen figure, before stepping even closer. By then, there was only one door in between their two positions. Subconsciously, Renjun’s hands floated towards his stomach and chest, a pre-defensive pose. 

He waited and waited but nothing ever happened nor did he notice even a muscle or finger twitch on the other person. Indeed, what was he to do? He could, perhaps, gently touch his arm or shoulder to see if he truly was alive and not just a statue (though, he didn’t know which scenario would be scarier). However, he could very well be putting up an act to sneak up on Renjun and stab him in the back without remorse. It was too risky to turn away, he decided. There really was nothing else that he dared to do besides stand there and wait. 

But what _was_ he waiting for, then? Was it certain death, an agonizing six-hour wait until sunrise because he childishly hoped these happenings were all part of the night and its darkness? The panic fed off Renjun's growing uncertainties, a swift-moving and unstoppable surge that dragged his eyes away from the statue-person and forcefully turned his entire body away in the opposing direction. And he regretted it. 

The person was there, the same one-door distance ahead of him, standing as still as ever. Renjun nearly stumbled back, knowing that was impossible, that there was no way he moved like that in the blink of an eye. Fearfully, he turned around again, this time only his head, and there he was, against the door like nothing ever happened. 

Then he looked forward; the person was significantly closer to him than before, close enough for Renjun to shriek because he was no longer standing against a door, but rather directly facing the receptionist and staring at him with dead, cold eyes. 

There was nothing being said. No facial features moving, no limbs reaching out to Renjun. Just a stare of his round, black pupils that were silent, yet cracked and pierced through Renjun’s skull to plant despair into his head. His breathing became irregular and his arm went to grab the flashlight in his pocket, which froze when his elbow roughly hit something behind him. 

Every passing second was terror for the young man who, upon shakily looking over his shoulder, was met with a version of the quiet person standing no more than a couple centimeters away from him, looming out of the hushed space. 

It was the moment when Renjun felt the earth’s gravity suddenly weigh him down and chain his ankles to the floor, for he was gazing at the person’s wide, familiar smile, stretching cheek to cheek, full of bright teeth. 

“Get… get away from me!” 

Renjun’s arms reached for his head, grasping his hair as he was surrounded by the eerie figure, whose billion dollar smile seemed to bark and bite at every bit of Renjun’s body. He hunched over his shoulders and tried to escape, but he stomped on a foot and the image of the corpse appeared in his head, a cruel reminder of what could be his fate in the following moments. He couldn’t bring himself to look up, rather shutting his eyes desperately, wondering if this person would vanish if he no longer looked at him. His breathing was most rushed and panicked, each breath audible, a reflection of his own state of mind. He shouted again.

“Leave me alone!”

The answer to his prayers was the elevator bell. 

When he opened his eyes, Renjun was alone. All he had was the elevator in front of him, a carriage that had been called to pick him up. The light of the elevator was warm and he wanted more of its embrace. Caught in a trance of the light’s false comfort, he stepped inside and hugged the walls. He felt himself going mad, the way the button labeled 3 was illuminated and commanded Renjun to push it, to bring the horrors of the next floor onto himself. 

Before the elevator closed, there was a voice Renjun heard — whether it was from somewhere in the halls, in the elevator or his own delusions, he hadn’t a clue. At the very least, he understood that it was a pained voice that whispered, seemingly to his ear, “You weren’t sorry.”

The elevator began moving.


	3. park jisung

There was no escape for him. Renjun accepted it; he would face his twisted reality head-on even if it was the last thing he would ever do in his mortal body. Amidst his fear, his psyche, shaken from the experience of the previous floor, agreed to play along with the game. To explore each floor and confront every sort of horrors that lurked there, regardless of how much damage it would do to Renjun’s well-being. There was no way out — only a thin path that led forward. 

He thought about those names. Mark Lee was the one associated with the second floor; did that mean the… person he encountered was Mark? There was no way to know for sure — he definitely was not willing to go back and ask — so for the time being, he assumed so. And now that he was on the third floor, he prepared himself to encounter the next name: Park Jisung. 

Still, what he witnessed on that second floor could not leave his mind. It could have been all part of Renjun’s imagination, strengthened by fear of the unknown and darkness and dying. If not, he was not mistaken; the presence of Mark Lee both in front and behind, driving him into the corner of his mind, the body that he was sure he felt when accidentally moving his arm — they all seemed so real. 

But there was no logical way that could have been all real, and that was the problem that Renjun faced. He was conflicted in what to think of his experiences, when his mind insisted that everything was part of fiction whereas his heart remembered the rawness of his fear. 

He breathed in and out slowly, shakily, blinking at the number display above the elevator doors. He had to tell himself to relax, even just a little bit, otherwise he had the feeling he would lose his mind for sure. Wiping the sweat off his palms with his trousers, he stood still in the elevator space once the doors opened, extremely cautious of the floor. Eventually, he stepped out.

The third floor was no different from the previous in terms of atmosphere — the air was suffocatingly heavy, like a great weight pressing on his back and shoulders. This time, the terrors began early; Renjun, realizing that there were extra footsteps following his own when he walked down the hall, flicked his head around. 

There was a teenage boy behind him. Though he was tall — much taller than Renjun himself — he seemed rather young from his innocent smile and somewhat awkward stance. But the receptionist did not allow himself to let his guard down, remembering exactly why he was searching the floors and what he went through on the last one.

He gulped. The boy — he automatically assumed it was Park Jisung — was not moving, much like Mark Lee when he caught sight of him, though he at least appeared more… alive and real. His smile was indeed an innocent one, but that only gave Renjun even more of a reason to not trust him. Reluctantly, Renjun looked forward and took a couple steps, wondering exactly what were the boy’s plans. All he heard was the sound of the other pair of feet walking, stopping just after Renjun halted. 

Peering over his shoulder, Renjun’s eyes were met with the boy’s gaze, hopeful and dark. The grin was there, bright as ever. Although there normally wouldn’t be anything strange or suspicious about him, Renjun found great discomfort in realizing that he was being followed without a word from his follower — and that nothing would change until Renjun made something happen. So he paused, fully turned to the boy, and took in a deep breath.

“Why are you following me?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he would be killed on the spot for daring to ask questions. At first, the boy did not react, Renjun watched, then his smile grew slightly as his lips parted.

“Because I loved you.”

He spoke as if it were an obvious answer, that he had no reason to say it because Renjun should have known; the receptionist was left speechless, his bottom lip quivering but unable to form any words to return to the expectant-looking boy, whose gaze never wandered away from Renjun’s fearful expression.

“What… the hell does that mean?” questioned Renjun, a lump forming in the back of his throat. The more the boy smiled and refused to move from his spot, the more nervous and anxious Renjun grew, convinced that the boy was there to harm him. It was difficult to pinpoint, but he sensed the presence of malice seeping from the other, and his gaze seemed more deadly in contrast to his ever-angelic smile. 

Softly, the boy laughed. It was like a little whisper that spread throughout the hall, bouncing off Renjun’s body, shaking him to his core.

“Why don’t you know?” he asked innocently.

Renjun decided he had enough. Clearly, the boy was not planning on telling Renjun anything helpful, and he didn’t really appear to be capable of murder. His identity, reason for being there, and the fact that he spoke to Renjun as though they had met previously were all a mystery, but Renjun’s guts told him he needed to stay away from the boy. Although he was otherwise a “normal” person, there was certainly something strange about him, even if he ignored his odd behavior and statements. Renjun could not describe it as anything other than guilt, that the boy was there to make Renjun feel guilty for something. 

Interacting with him was a mistake, he thought as he quickly turned around and briskly walked away. Of course, he instantly heard footsteps that mirrored his own, indicating that the boy was definitely following him creepily again. Cursing under his breath, Renjun’s legs burst into a sprint, turning corners in hopes of the other losing his tracks. His efforts were futile, for Renjun glanced over his shoulder mid-run to only see the boy running at a much closer distance; he was almost about to step on Renjun’s heels, in fact, and seeing his crazed, dilated eyes, toothy smile and heavy panting sent Renjun into full panic.

Suddenly, Renjun stopped, facing the boy behind him and taking a step towards him. Reaching his arms out, the older shoved the boy with open palms while grunting in desperation, his push strong enough to make him fall to the floor. Renjun quickly continued forward, nearly tripping on himself and his heart beating a mile a minute. The elevator had somehow made its way to the wall ahead of Renjun, its doors sliding open with the bell and inviting Renjun into its safety.

Dashing into the elevator, he almost managed to run straight into the back of the elevator, stopping himself just before he collided by dropping to his knees and using his hands to break the impact. He imagined running for one’s life was no different than what he had just done, in terms of the person’s state of panic and uncertainty. He punched the button for the next floor — the only button that seemed to work — and peered back at the empty, dark hall that he came from. His eyes widened, his stomach twisted and turned into painful knots, and his hands trembled as he held himself defensively. This was the guilt he had sensed earlier, he was sure of it.

Down the hallway, the boy had not moved from where he was shoved by Renjun. Rather than standing and chasing after Renjun like he had been, he was still on the floor, his shoulders shaking and back hunched over. His hands were holding his face, his long and thin fingers tensed and almost resembling a skeleton’s grasp. With his head down, his hair covered most of his face, leaving his expression up to Renjun’s imagination.

The noise was faint but Renjun could hear it clearly, even from his distance and over the elevator doors’ shuffling sounds: the boy, gasping and hiccuping, was sobbing.


End file.
